In my classroom after lunch: a 3 foot high hard rubber rat and and plastic mini rat attached to a trap that squeals, courtesy of the band of prankster lesbians.
My giggling but confused students watched from their seats as I pulled a large Simba from the closet, glued a black string to its mouth and added a post-it that said, "Mmmm. Tasty." We placed it in a large green canvas bag and *snuck it into the gym. At the end of the day, I removed the batteries from the trap and attached a note."Sorry about the batteries...but I'm a lonely woman."
Our contract clearly states no horseplay on school grounds, but it doesn't say anything about Tomfoolery.
*fine, not a real word. One of our regional "accents" is that we drop medial t's, and have non-standard past tenses. For example, "We pet the dog yesterday" is common usage in town, even among the edumacated.
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This was shenanigans, or at worst monkeyshines, tomfollery indeed. There was no roughhousing, and certainly no gamboling*, so you're on the high side of the horseplay demarcation.
*(You're not on a reservation!)
--T
I love roughhousing...
Yeah, you and most Catholic priest/wrestling coaches. Rollin' around with sweaty boys, a thin layer of spandex between you and them. Oh the humanity.
Bender: Oh and wouldn't that be a bite...Missing a whole wrestling meet!
Andrew: Well you wouldn't know anything about it, faggot! You never competed in your whole life!
Bender: Oh, I know...I feel all empty inside because of it. I have such a deep admiration for guys that roll around on the floor with other guys!
Andrew: Ahhh...you'd never make it. You don't have any goals.
Bender: Oh, but I do!
Andrew: Yeah?
Bender: I wanna be just--like--you! I figure all I need's a lobotomy and some tights!
Brian: You wear tights?
Andrew: No I don't wear tights, I wear the required uniform.
Brian: Tights.
--Taupey, messin' with the bull.
Ew, and ew.
Tanneran: I think you're dehydrated.
Louden Swain: No, I'm just the victim of a screwed-up nitrogen imbalance. Plus, I think I've contracted priapism.
Tanneran: What's priapism?
Louden Swain: It's a disease of a constant erection.
[Tanneran giggles]
Louden Swain: It's not funny, believe me! The girl of my dreams lives under my own roof, but she thinks I'm just a kid, a dumb jock, all of which is more or less true. I'm dying, Mr. Tanneran, just like that girl in the poem... only quicker, and with a hard-on.
--Taupey, still a rasslin'
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